The Return of Francesca
by Debbie Kluge
Summary: Story #2 in the Jealousy Series. The return of an old enemy causes a crisis for Jonny Quest


THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST 

"Jealousy II: The Return of Francesca" 

by Debbie Kluge 

Sounds. The clink of metal on metal, the rattle of a cart moving down the hallway, the low murmur of voices in the distance. And smells . . . antiseptic, equipment . . . the smells were the worst. Jonny raised his head and looked around numbly. Nothing had changed. The hospital corridor, the clear, glass window, the monitors, the tubes, the bed . . . and Jessie in that bed. Oh, God, how did this happen? he thought. And then, It's my fault. He lowered his head into his hands again and it all came back to him so clearly. 

* * * * * 

He could hear her voice echoing in his head. 

"There are a lot of kinds of `hurt', Jonny." 

And, "Maybe one day we'll talk about them." 

And Jessie crying. 

He knew he'd been a fool. And for a while, he thought that what he had done would be unfixable. It had seemed so harmless initially, spending all that time with Francesca. And, he admitted freely that it had felt great to see Jessie so upset about it. But he didn't realize how much he was putting at risk. Not until the night he looked down at her and saw her crying. Crying over him. And somehow, everything had changed. But by that time, it had almost been too late. 

He tried to talk with her about it that same night, but she refused. He had gone to bed and lay there, unable to sleep, slowing coming to realize the magnitude of what he had done. He tried again that morning, as soon as they were up but she just averted her eyes and shook her head. There were dark circles under her eyes and he thought she hadn't slept any better than he had. Throughout the weekend he tried to talk with her, but she refused to discuss it. And he was scared to even mention Francesca's name, so finally he'd let it drop. Dad was worried . . . and so was Race. Jonny caught both of them looking at them . . . watching them. They had even tried to talk to them about it. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. The only person he wanted to talk with was Jessie. Maybe he could have talked to Hadji, but he was in Bangalore. 

And on Monday morning, when Jessie turned up for school all dressed up, he thought maybe things were going to be okay. God, she was so beautiful that morning. She seemed her old self. And things between them seemed fine . . . as long as he didn't bring up that night or Francesca. If he did, she simply withdrew again. So he decided to let it go until she was ready to talk. But it wasn't that easy. If he thought she was beautiful, well, so did everybody else. And the fact that he had attached himself to Francesca was common knowledge. So every guy in school decided she was "available". Three separate guys asked her out for Friday night right in front of him that first morning. And what could he do? He had brought it on himself. He took no consolation in the fact she turned them all down. It was only a question of time. 

By Wednesday he had been desperate. He tried again to apologize but she still refused to talk with him about it. And so, that morning on the way in to school, he had pushed . . . insisted they discuss it. And he had made her cry again. He thought that things couldn't get any worse. He was wrong. 

When he came out of his last class that afternoon he had found a note on his locker. It simply said, 

"Jonny, Had to leave early. Dad'll pick you up after school. Jessie" 

And when he got home she was gone. Estella had called. She was receiving some kind of honorary degree and wanted Jessie to be with her when it was presented. She would be back on Sunday. So he had settled down to wait. But on Saturday the phone call came. She talked with her dad. Then she talked with his dad. But she wouldn't talk with him. Race had to tell him. She wasn't coming back right away. Estella was leaving for a dig in Brazil and she was going to go with her. She wasn't going to Cairo with them. 

That night both his dad and Race came to his room and sat down. His father started, "Jonny, what is going on? Something has happened between you and Jessie. She won't talk about it. You won't talk about it. And now she isn't coming home. Will you please tell us what's happened?" He had looked from his father to Race and it was like his throat closed up and he felt like he couldn't even breathe. He tried. He really did. But in the end he just couldn't make himself tell them. What could he say? That he'd treated her like dirt? It was true. That he was sorry? That was true, too. That maybe he had hurt her so badly she could never trust him again? And then what? He just shook his head, halfway in tears, and after a while they had finally left him alone. 

But his father had one final thing to say before he left. "Jonny, you have to talk with her. Resolve whatever is wrong. All else aside, Race doesn't deserve this." 

And for two days he had brooded about it. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. And so, late one night, he sat down at his computer and he wrote her a letter. He'd put his heart and soul into that letter. To this day he didn't remember what all he said; only that he had meant every word. And before he could chicken out, he had patched it into his e-mail and sent it to her. He knew she had her laptop and satellite up-link gear. If only she'd check her mail . . . It was three days before she responded. The note was simple. It said, "Call me," and gave a number. He had retrieved the cellular phone, locked himself in his room and placed that call. The connection wasn't always good, they were disconnected several times due to depleted cell batteries, and it wasn't the way he had wanted to have the conversation, but they had finally talked. And talked. And talked. About 5-1/2 hours later the last battery on both their phones gave out, but not before they had finally gotten everything said. And she had agreed to come home. 

Not that that little piece of news had tempered his father's anger any when the phone company called the next day to confirm that the charges were legitimate. He'd be paying for that phone bill for a long time. But it had been worth it. Race had gone to get her and had met them in New York as they prepared to leave for London. They'd had no time alone to really talk, but at least temporarily that had been okay. She had sat beside him and laughed. And they talked about "safe" things like the trip and the work that was to be done. And she had let him hold her hand. He was gloriously, ecstatically, indescribably happy. 

They had been in London for two days when he began to feel "itchy". He couldn't describe the sensation . . . just that something wasn't quite right. Finally, he told Jessie it felt like someone was watching him all the time. It was four days later that she started having "accidents". At first it was little things. Like the morning they were leaving the hotel and a cab had cut the corner too sharply and sprayed dirty water all over her. Or the evening she had slipped near the main lobby in their hotel and almost fell down an entire flight of stairs. At first they had all laughed and shrugged it off. But soon things started to escalate. 

There was the broken balcony rail in the London Museum. Someone had bumped into Jessie, pushing her against the railing on the second floor. It had given way and she had gone over the edge. Luckily there had been scaffolding near because the Museum personnel had known it was weak and they were fixing it. She had landed on the scaffold and had sustained only minor bruises. The Director could not explain why all the warning signs and barricades were missing. He was sure they had been there that morning. Everyone had been shaken except Jessie. She just shrugged and said she was probably just being a klutz and accidents happen. 

And the entire time that "itchy" feeling of being watched persisted. 

But then the accident with the bus occurred. It was the night before they were to leave for Cairo. For the first time, the two of them were going to have the chance to go out alone. They really didn't have much time so they were just going to take a walk up the street, do some window-shopping and then go back and help finish all the packing. He remembered thinking that their fathers' willingness to let them go was pretty impressive considering it was finally beginning to dawn on them that he and Jessie were developing into something more than just friends. Jessie told him as they left the hotel that her dad's parting comment had been that he thought that maybe it was time they had a little father-daughter chat about "things." She was giggling about it as they crossed the street and he had made some comment about the "birds and the bees". Suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of those large, red London buses had appeared. It was careening out of control with no driver and no passengers. It had jumped the curb and clipped Jessie just before it hit the building wall. She had been knocked off her feet and hurled into a brick wall about three feet away. She had hit hard and slid down to lay dazed and confused on the pavement. There had been screams and a lot of commotion as he had run to her. She had been struggling to rise into a sitting position and as he put his arm around her for support he looked up and saw his father and Race pushing their way through the crowds. But in that instant, his eyes had focused on the crowd behind them and what he saw made his blood run cold. 

She was standing at the front of a crowd of people about 20 feet back from the accident. Her dress was a deep violet, just like her eyes, and it clung to her like a second skin. A cloud of raven black hair framed her body. She looked so tiny and fragile. And, incredibly, she was laughing. 

* * * * * 

The sound of a buzzer caused Jonny to raise his head and look up the hospital corridor. He could see Race and his father standing outside the locked door to the intensive care unit. A nurse approached the speaker system and talked quietly with them. Finally she opened the door and allowed them to step inside. A soft voice suddenly came over the PA system. 

"Dr. Amin to ICU. Dr. Amin to ICU." 

He closed his eyes. He knew what Dr. Amin would tell them. The same thing he had told Jonny a little over an hour ago. "I'm sorry, Mr. Quest, but she is very badly injured. There are numerous broken bones and some very traumatic internal injuries. She is currently listed in critical condition and there is a very good possibility she will not live through the night. We have done everything we can. All we can do now is wait." 

He bowed his head and waited in misery. 

********** 

"This isn't over, Bannon. There'll be another time and another place." 

The words had echoed in his mind like a death knell as he knelt on that cold pavement and stared across the crowd at Francesca Hamilton. She had smiled sweetly, waved, blew him a kiss and had then vanished. 

"Jonny . . . Jonny, let go. You're hurting me . . ." 

He had looked down blindly at Jessie as she struggled weakly to free herself from his vise-like grip. He shook himself mentally and spoke to her softly. "No, Jessie, hold still. Our dads are coming. I just saw them. Don't move until we can find a doctor." 

"I'm okay. Just a little banged up. I don't need . . ." 

Her father was suddenly there, overriding any objections. "You will see a doctor, Jessica, and I don't want to hear any arguments. You lay there until we can find one!" 

She had relaxed back into Jonny's embrace and laid her head on his shoulder. "I do hurt," she had admitted finally. 

In the effort to get her cared for and back safely to the hotel, Jonny had put aside any thought of what he had seen. The doctor had ultimately confirmed that Jessie was suffering from several severe bruises particularly to her right hip and shoulder. She also had a very minor concussion from hitting the wall. But all in all, the doctor's opinion was that she was a very lucky young woman. He recommended two days bed rest before she was moved and had prescribed some painkillers for the next day. They had taken her back to the hotel, put her carefully to bed and Jonny had settled himself into the chair next to her to stand vigil. 

"What are you doing?" 

Jonny looked up to see his father standing in the doorway. "I'll be okay here, Dad. She shouldn't be alone." 

"Jonny, the doctor says she'll be fine. You need to . . ." 

He cut his father off abruptly. "NO! I won't leave her alone. You don't . . ." He cut himself off sharply and shook his head. He finished lamely, "I just won't." 

Standing behind Benton, Race Bannon looked at Jonny closely. Then he stepped around the older man, grasped Jonny's arm firmly and stood him up. "You can sit out here and we'll leave the door open so you can keep an eye on her. But we need to talk." Race led Jonny into the sitting room and they all settled down. He had shifted his chair around until he had a clear view of Jessie as she lay sleeping. 

Finally, he looked back at a rather grim-faced Race. "Now, Jonathan Benton Quest, I don't know what's been going on here, but enough is enough. I want an explanation. Now." 

He had looked at Race for a long time, then took a deep breath and started at the beginning . . . and this time he left nothing out. He told them about that morning in Rockport High School; about the hours he had spent with Francesca; about the fights with Jessie and the dinner in Augusta. He told them again about that night at the Quest Compound when Francesca and her father had broken into the lighthouse, and about the threats Francesca had made to Jessie just before she had disappeared. At that point, he stopped, looking quietly at her sleeping form in the other room. And, finally, he told them about the aftermath of that night, the miserable days that followed, the letter, the phone call and, lastly, about the time in London where they had both been so happy. And there he stopped. 

He sat for a minute staring at her and then looked Race Bannon squarely in the face. "Race, I was a stupid fool. And I came closer than I ever want to come to losing one of the most important things in my life. Somehow, she's found a way to forgive me. It's probably more than I deserve. And I'll never hurt her again . . . I swear it." 

Race looked at him seriously for several seconds, then took a deep breath. "I believe you." Race looked over at Benton whose eyes were unusually bright and then looked back at him. A wry smile formed at the corner of his mouth. "How old are you, Jonny?" Race could see him stiffen slightly. 

"I'll be sixteen next month." 

Race shook his head, his smile growing a little bigger. Then he looked over at Benton. "I suppose we should be grateful this didn't happen sooner." 

Benton cleared his throat slightly. "Yes, we should. And we also should have seen it coming." But then he looked again at his son. "But there's something else. Something you haven't told us. You've gone this far, Jonny, give us the rest." 

So he told them about seeing Francesca in the crowd. About her laughter. They were all silent for a long time. 

Finally Benton spoke up. "You think she's responsible for all of this." 

Jonny shrugged and looked again at the sleeping form on the bed in the other room. "She certainly seemed to hate Jessie enough to do something like this." 

His father exhaled in a deep sigh. "Well forewarned is forearmed, I guess. We'll notify the authorities first thing in the morning and we'll keep close tabs on both of you. Hopefully the authorities will pick her and any accomplices up relatively quickly and we won't have to worry about this any more. In the mean time . . ." 

Jonny rose quickly from his chair and moved back in the direction of Jessie's bedroom again. "In the mean time, I'll just settle in the chair in here." 

Race opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and let him go. 

* * * * * 

He knew his father and Race had discussed the situation for a long time after he left. He could hear the low murmur of their voices in the other room. All in all, they seemed to have taken the news of he and Jessie fairly well, although Jonny figured things might change a little after they had time to think about it. Somewhere along the way he had drifted off to sleep. He woke up sometime around two o'clock that morning feeling stiff and a little cold. When he looked at her, he saw Jessie's green eyes watching him. 

He straightened up and asked softly, "Hey, how ya' doin'?" 

She shifted slightly and grimaced. "Well, I've been better." She smiled at his look and continued quickly, "No. No, I'm okay. I've just been laying here wondering if it's worth the trouble of trying to get up to go to the bathroom." 

"I'll help." 

"Ooh, I bet my dad would love that!" 

Jonny grinned wryly. "You don't know the half of it." 

Her eyes widened slightly. "What did you . . ." 

Race suddenly stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Poncheta. Feeling better?" 

Jessie started to sit up in bed and both Jonny and Race converged on her. She made it upright, breathing a little heavily. "Oh man, did someone get the number of that bus?" 

Race snorted. Then he looked at Jonny. "It's now time that you got some sleep. And I don't mean sitting upright in a chair. Go on. I'll sit with her now." He had started to protest but a stern look silenced him. As he was leaving, he could hear Race saying to her, "So tell me, was he as much of a horse's behind as he claims he was?" 

There was a pause and then Jonny heard her laugh a little nervously. "Oh. He told you about that. Well . . . yeah, he was. But then, I was no prize either so I guess we're about even . . ." 

Jonny thought he would never be able to sleep, but he no more than lay down than he was out like a light. It was after ten when he woke up. He wandered into the sitting room to find Jessie propped up on a couch, wide awake and looking a lot better. Oversized sheets of paper surrounded her and she had a sketchpad in her lap. When he picked one of the sheets up he found himself staring at a likeness of Francesca. 

He looked at her questioningly and she shrugged, wincing a little. "They told me you had seen her at the accident and thought she may have been the cause of the stuff that's been happening to me recently. Dad asked if I could come up with a good picture of her. I think he wants to distribute it to some of his old agency buddies to see if they can find her. I told him you were the better artist, but he said he didn't think he wanted to rely on your objectivity." 

"And yours is going to be better?" She laughed. He picked up several of the sketches and looked at them. There were several different poses and Jessie had captured her beauty and innocence well. But there were no pictures of her other side . . . the angry, hate-filled one. He pointed that out. 

She bowed her head a little, letting her hair obscure her face. In a muffled voice she said, "Well, she's not going to let that face show much, now is she? And she really is drop-dead gorgeous. That's what people will notice." 

He sat quickly beside her and, catching her chin, forced her face up to look at him. "Let's not start this again. We've talked about it already. And I still don't understand why you feel this way!" 

"But she makes me feel so plain and . . ." 

"You are not plain! That's simply not possible." He grinned at her. "Especially when you're multicolored!" 

"Oh, thanks a lot. That makes me feel a whole lot better!" He looked at her for a long moment and then reached a gentle hand out and brushed her cheek. He suddenly remembered a damp, fog-enshrouded day on a ghost island off the coast of Nova Scotia and his breath caught in his throat. He curled his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her gently toward him as he leaned forward. He could feel her breath on his cheek as he . . . 

"Jonny." 

He jerked upright and flushed a bright pink, twisting around to glare at his father who was standing just inside the door. "Don't do that!" he gasped sharply. Jessie giggled. 

Race strode into the room briskly. "How are those drawings coming?" 

"I've got several good ones here I think." 

Jonny reached out for the pad. "Give me that thing." He worked for about 15 minutes and then handed another drawing to Race. This Francesca was almost unrecognizable as the same person. 

Race looked at Jonny for a long minute. "Are you sure about this?" 

Jonny shrugged. "Jessie has her biases and I have mine. But she really can look that different from one time to the next. And that's the face I remember. The one from the computer lab in the lighthouse. That's the person who made the threats against Jessie." 

"Okay. I'm going out for a while." He pointed sternly at Jonny. "You will stay here. I know you too well, and I don't want you out roaming the streets looking for this girl. We are going to let someone else take care of this." 

The next two days had passed quietly. Jessie rested while they finished up the packing and made the final travel arrangements for Cairo. His dad had called Hadji to let him know what was going on and Hadji had spent some time talking to both of his friends. He had been very concerned and was prepared to head directly for Cairo to be with them. His dad had talked him out of it. He pointed out that Hadji had other obligations and that they could manage. Secretly, Jonny had wished that his dad had let Hadji join them. He would have felt a lot better with another set of eyes watching over Jessie until Francesca had been caught. Somehow, Francesca had managed to elude capture. She seemed to have absolutely vanished. He was almost beginning to wonder if he had imagined the whole thing. 

* * * * * 

The trip to Egypt had been an uneventful one. Jonny had thought they were actually going to work in Cairo, however when they arrived they discovered that the Egyptian government, who had requested Dr. Quest's services, preferred that they move on to Luxor and work there. They were to work on the renovation and translation of some newly obtained tomb reliefs from the Valley of the Kings. Relics had been flooding the antiquities market that did not seem to follow any of the known dynastic patterns. Either thieves had found a brand new tomb or someone had come up with an entirely new enterprise. Either way, the Egyptian government wanted to know. So after spending a couple of days arranging for supplies, they moved on to Luxor. 

By that time Jessie was a great deal better and anxious to go out and explore. But he was jumpy. That "itchy" feeling of being watched had returned full force shortly after they set foot in Cairo. And it was getting worse the longer they were in Egypt. Jessie seemed completely oblivious to it. Race had finally relented and allowed Jessie out of their lodgings as long as she wasn't alone and didn't go far. For a while she was okay with that, but after about a week she began to get restless and irritable. Since things has been quiet and there had been no further problems, Race had finally agreed to give them free rein to roam . . . "within reason" as he had put it. So they had explored the souks and open-air markets. They had taken the hike into the Valley of the Kings to see the various tombs and crawled in the dark, smelly passages of long-abandoned pyramids. They had gone to Giza to see the sphinx. But the entire time he had remained uneasy. That feeling of being watched had never left him. 

And then the night of the full moon arrived. 

All of the tour guides had talked about seeing the full moon rise from the top of the great pyramid. How it bathed everything in this wonderful silver light and about how beautiful a sight it was. So they had decided they would climb the pyramid together and see it. 

When they had told their fathers, Race had frowned and looked a little worried. "I'm not sure that being out alone after dark is such a good idea. Maybe Benton and I should come with you." 

The glare Jessie gave her father could have curdled milk. "DAD!" 

Race looked a little startled at her vehemence and Benton gagged on his coffee. "Oh. I see. Well . . ." 

Jessie continued, "Furthermore, we won't be that alone. This is a big tourist attraction and they say it draws a big crowd." 

"Well, alright. But both of you be careful!" They had agreed and about an hour before sunset they left to start for the pyramid. They were both in high spirits, laughing and joking. The climb, while long, wasn't bad and they arrived just as the sun was setting. For the next several hours they watched the scenery, mingled with the other people and generally enjoyed themselves. As moonrise approached, they had moved a little away from the others and had found a convenient block of stone with a good view. As they sat down, he had put his arm around her waist and she had snuggled up against his side with one hand lying on his leg. Suddenly, the moon began peaking over the dunes on the horizon and they had sat spellbound as it rose majestically until it was a perfectly round orb hanging suspended in the night sky. 

Jessie breathed out a soft "Ooh" and he had turned to look at her. She looked back at him, the wonder of the sight reflected in her face. He had used his free hand to caress her cheek as he leaned forward to kiss her. An instant before their lips met, his world exploded in a burst of pain as someone struck him on the head. The last thing he remembered hearing was Jessie's frightened cry as blackness enveloped him. 

When he regained consciousness, he was lying in the deep shadow formed by the piece of stone they had been sitting on. The moon had moved far across the night sky and his head ached. The top of the pyramid was deserted. He staggered to his feet and looked around frantically. At first he could see nothing. Then, about a third of the way across the top of the pyramid, he saw what he first thought was a shadow. Slowly, it dawned on him that there was nothing anywhere near to be casting a shadow. He had stumbled across the surface and dropped to his knees beside the dark shape. With shaking hands he activated the flashlight on his watch and look down at the lump before him. In the harsh light, he looked at Jessie. One side of her rib cage looked collapsed and her right leg was twisted in a direction it should not have been able move. There was blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth and for an instant he thought she wasn't breathing. Then he heard her try to inhale, and the sound wheezed and bubbled. Blood in her lungs. 

Oh, please, PLEASE God, don't let this be happening . . . 

In that instant, he knew she was dying. 

* * * * * 

"Jonny." 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up slowly. His father knelt in front of him. Behind him, he could see Race standing at the glass window staring at his daughter. His body was tense and the set of his shoulders said he was angry. His father squeezed his shoulder and asked in a gentle voice, "Are you all right, son?" 

All right? ALL RIGHT?!? His vision suddenly blurred and the pain in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. He jerked away and stood up, moving jerkily down the hallway toward the door to the ICU room where Jessie lay. He wanted to strike out with both fists . . . wanted to break something . . . anything. The grief and rage and helplessness were swamping him. He felt like he was drowning. 

Suddenly, he was seized and pulled into a strong, tight embrace. He heard Race's voice against his hair. "Hang on, Jonny. Don't give in. She's strong and she's a fighter. This won't beat her. I know it won't. And when she comes around, she's going to need you . . . need all of us. We can't fall apart now." He could feel the tremor in Race's body as he fought with himself. 

Jonny struggled to do the same and finally found some small measure of control. "You're right." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I . . . I'm okay now." Race loosened his grip and led him gently back to his father. Benton placed a hand on his son's shoulder and pushed him gently down to sit on the bench along the wall again. The two older men sat down on either side of him and Benton put his arm around his shoulders. 

"Can you tell us what happened, son?" 

And so he told them. By the time he finished, he was shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down his face. "I don't remember what I did. How I got help. It's nothing but a blur. I remember an ambulance of some kind and of talking with the doctor. I remember giving them your name, Dad, and begging them to call you, but I . . . I . . ." He wrapped him arms around his ribs and shuddered violently as the force of his grief shook him. Race rose abruptly and walked back to the window to look at his daughter again, while Benton tried to comfort his son. Dr. Amin appeared quietly with a syringe that he swiftly injected into Jonny. Jonny jerked upright, wild-eyed, but Benton and caught and held him until the sedative took effect and he slumped down in his father's lap, unconscious. 

Benton put a hand to his eyes as though his head ached. Then he looked at the doctor and said, "Thank you. Is there a place we can lay him so he can rest?" Dr. Amin located a hospital bed and placed it against the wall in the hallway outside Jessie's room. Then the three of them picked Jonny up and laid him on the bed. Benton covered him with a blanket and stood looking at him for a minute. Even in sleep, the grief marked his son's face. 

He felt Race at his shoulder. "What a mess." 

Benton looked up at his long-time companion. "I'm sorry, old friend. This never should have happened." 

Race moved to the bench where Jonny had been sitting and sank wearily onto it. "What's to be sorry for? This certainly isn't Jessie's fault. She can't be held accountable for every maniac who decides to hold a grudge. And as much as Jonny is prepared to take the blame for the entire mess, this isn't his fault either." Race rubbed at his eyes. "You know, Benton, I think I've always known that the day would come when those two would look at each other and realize there was something more there. I just didn't think it would happen quite so soon." He sighed softly and then glanced at is companion. "But the truth is, I've trusted that boy with my daughter's life more than once and I've never regretted it yet. I'm sure not gonna' start now. If it's time that she develops an interest in boys, I would prefer it be Jonny than anyone else I've ever met." 

Benton Quest sat down next to him and leaned against the wall. "High praise for my somewhat wayward son. You know I love her like she was my own daughter, don't you?" 

Race nodded. "I know." He sat quietly for a minute. Finally, he rose and looked at his friend. "I've got to call her mother." Benton reached into his pocket and silently handed him the cellular phone. 

* * * * * 

The extended members of the Quest "family" converged quickly on the Egyptian hospital. Hadji arrived from Bangalore before sunset that same day looking tense and exhausted. Estella would arrive sometime the next day, having refused to allow Race to leave Jessie to come after her. Jonny had finally roused from his drug-induced sleep late that afternoon. He looked haggard and much older than his almost-sixteen years. Both Race and Benton had tried to convince him to eat, but he had refused, simply saying he wasn't hungry. He had tried to go into the ICU room to wait with Jessie, but the hospital staff had refused to allow this. Finally, he had settled again on the bench outside the viewing window and sat . . . silent and unmoving. The emotional outbursts were gone. In their place, only silence and withdrawal remained. Benton had greeted his adopted son with relief when Hadji arrived, stopping him well out of earshot. Hadji was shocked by the appearance of his friend. 

Benton explained briefly the events of the prior few weeks and then looked at his adopted son seriously. "They've both been on an emotional roller coaster for the last month. He's over-stretched emotionally, physically exhausted, and beyond trying to take care of himself any longer. Neither Race nor I can reach him. I'm scared something really drastic is going to happen. And if we should lose Jessie, heaven forbid . . ." 

Hadji shook his head, "I do not believe that will happen, Dr. Quest. I have never known anyone with more will to live than Jessie. And if what you say is true, then she has more to live for now than ever before. She will not give up on that. You watch and see . . . she will make it." Hadji walked across the room and sat down by his friend. He spoke to him softly and Benton could see Jonny reply to whatever he had said. At least he had gotten some type of response from him. That was more than anyone else had been able to do that day. 

Race was again standing in front of the viewing window watching his daughter. Benton had seen him talking with Dr. Amin as Hadji had arrived and he moved up to stand beside him. Jessie lay in the same position as she had when they had first arrived at the hospital. Tubes and electrodes trailed from both arms and a brain monitor was attached to one temple. Her face was bruised, her nose broken and a large white bandage covered her entire right arm from shoulder to wrist. He knew that there was a tube inserted into her left side through the ribcage to drain the blood from her lungs. The lacerations to spleen, kidneys and liver had been severe. He simply didn't see how she could possibly survive this. Unexpectedly, he felt tears sting his eyes. What he had said to Race last night had been true. He loved her like she was his own and would not have felt any worse if it had been Jonny in that bed. 

He looked at Race. "What did he say, old friend?" 

Race was silent for a minute and then glanced over his shoulder at the two sitting on the bench behind him. In a low, choked voice he said, "She's a good deal weaker. He's afraid they're going to have to put her on active life support. There's also some indication she may be developing pneumonia." Race's face looked bleak. "Benton, that boy's got to find some reason to go on. If Jessie doesn't make it through this . . . well, I don't like what I'm seeing there. I've seen that look on the faces of too many good men who have been pushed too far." 

The cold at the pit of Benton Quest's stomach turned into an icy knot. He took a deep breath. "Let's just hope Hadji can reach him. If he can't, I don't think anyone can." 

* * * * * 

Jonny's entire world seemed muted. Sounds were distant, colors dull, and somewhere in the center of himself he was lost. He was only marginally aware of the coming and going of people around him. He no longer even listened to his father or Race. He didn't care any more. But suddenly, he became aware of a new voice. He raised his head slowly and looked to his right. Hadji was sitting beside him. 

"Hello, my friend. I am sorry it has taken me so long to get here." 

Jonny straighten up and leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "It's okay, Hadj. It doesn't matter . . ." His eyes turned to the big glass window and the sight beyond it. "Dad tell you what's been going on?" Hadji nodded, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. "I really screwed this one up, Hadji." 

"From what Dr. Quest has told me, you are not at fault here. Nor do I believe that Race holds you responsible. And Jessie would not want you to do this to yourself on her behalf. She is stronger than that and would expect you to be, as well." Jonny didn't respond. Hadji stood and reached a hand down to grasp his arm. "Come, my friend. I do not believe that Jessie will give up this life just yet. And you must be strong enough to help her when the time comes. We will get something to eat, you will take a bath, and then get some sleep. We will return in the morning and be more ready to cope with all the day brings." Jonny rose and, without a backward look, allowed Hadji to lead him out the door and into the night. 

* * * * * 

Dr. Estella Velasquez arrived early the next morning. She had been traveling continuously for over 36 hours and felt disconnected. Surely, she thought, this can't be happening. But the harsh reality came home to her as she entered the ICU corridor in the Cairo hospital. They were all there. Benton Quest, Hadji, Jonny . . . and Race. She had eyes only for her ex-husband. She had expected to be angry when she saw him, and she had spent most of the trip trying to condition herself so she would not be accusatory when she saw him. She didn't want to fight. The only thing that mattered was their daughter. But she needn't have worried. Any anger she felt drained away the instant she set eyes on him. He had aged, and the grief and worry had cut deep lines between his brows and at the corners of his mouth. And like all of them, he looked exhausted. 

She crossed to him quickly and laid a hand on his arm. "Race . . ." 

He looked at her. "Estella." 

And suddenly they were in each other's arms, their daughter's plight bringing them together once again. They stood like that for a long time. Finally, Estella loosened her grip and look up at her former husband with anger stirring deep in her eyes. "Who did this?" 

Race took a deep breath and then shot a quick sidewise look toward Jonny. He shook his head and in a low voice, said, "Not here. He can't take much more." In a more normal tone of voice, he continued, "Let's get you out of here. We'll get something to eat, drop your stuff off at our hotel, and then we'll come back." He looked at Benton. "We shouldn't be gone more than an hour." Benton nodded. 

For the first time Estella looked closely at the others in the waiting area. All looked tired and grieved, but she was horrified when she looked at Jonny. The last time she had seen her daughter she was laughing and radiated joy. She had told her mother that she thought she had a boyfriend. When Estella had asked who it was, Jessie had given her one of those daughter looks and had asked her who she thought it would be. Estella didn't have to guess. She knew her daughter's heart. If Race had subconsciously known that this was going to happen, Estella had always known . . . and had waited patiently for it. And she didn't need to have seen young Jonny Quest to know that he would have been as alive and as joyful as her daughter had been. The boy who sat on the bench in that room was a stranger. He was thin and ashen. Pain surrounded him like a cloud, and despair was written in every line on his face. Laying a hand on Race's arm briefly, she crossed to stand in front of the boy as he sat leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. She reached out and stroked his hair gently. He opened his eyes and she saw they were a dark, clouded blue-gray. "You mustn't give up on her, Jonny. She's not ready to leave you yet. I know . . . she told me so herself." 

His eyes suddenly filled with tears and he choked, "Oh, Estella, I-I'm so s-s-sorry. I should have p-p-protected her . . ." 

She drew him into her arms and rocked him gently back and forth, stroking his hair. "There was nothing you could have done. I know that. Now we must simply wait for what will come." She disengaged herself. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon. And then we'll talk. And I will tell you about my daughter." 

* * * * * 

Race and Estella sat in the common room in the Quest's hotel suite eating a room service meal. She had showered briefly and they were due to leave to return to the hospital shortly. Race had told her of the events that had occurred since he had picked their daughter up from Estella's base camp in the Brazilian rain forest. 

Anger showed clearly as she looked at him. "So you know who is behind this." 

"We have an idea. I've circulated sketches to all the local police agencies and have called in every favor anyone ever owed me to try to track her down. We know she was operating with someone she claimed was her father back in Maine and there may be others. But so far they have gone to ground so thoroughly no one has been able to unearth them." 

Estella looked at him closely. Race Bannon had never been a man to tolerate inactivity or waiting with any kind of grace. She knew how badly he must have wanted to go out and tear things apart trying to find the person who had hurt his "little girl." That he was waiting quietly with the others was something of a revelation to her. 

"Maybe the girl . . . Francesca, you said her name is? . . . has left. Maybe she accomplished her purpose and is no longer around." Race shook his head slowly. 

"Maybe. But somehow I don't think so. All of the attacks were directed at Jessie, but I'm starting to believe that in some subtle way they are also directed at Jonny. She may want Jessie dead, but I think she wants Jonny to suffer." 

"So. She is angry . . . with both of them. I have to wonder if Jessie actively took Jonny away from her." 

"I don't think so. From what Jonny said, Jessie was too proud to play that kind of game. Not that she didn't learn a few things in the process." An image of his daughter in a black leather miniskirt came forcefully to mind and he swallowed hard. "But I think Jonny had come to realize his own heart and was already moving away from Francesca before the night in the lighthouse ever occurred." 

"And if Jessie was jealous of her it's a good bet that the reverse was also true." 

"Jonny was completely bewildered because he said that Jessie has told him repeatedly that Francesca made her feel plain . . . actually, I guess there was something of a litany . . . plain, ugly, scruffy, clumsy." Race shook his head in disbelief. "I thought we had instilled more self-esteem in her than that." 

"It's not self-esteem, Race. It's youth. She's young . . . they both are. That's not to say they don't know their own hearts, but they are still trying to learn how to deal with all of the emotions that come with getting older. I'm not sure Jessie ever really thought about whether she was pretty. She was simply herself. That's what we taught her. And Jonny's attention mattered to her, whether she realized it consciously or not. That had never been threatened before. When it was, her world was turned on its side and she was lost." 

"She should have come and talked with me. Or Benton. Either of us would have listened." 

Estella shook her head. "And I can tell you what both of you would have said. `You're way to young to be thinking this way.' And that wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wasn't too young, because she hurt. She just didn't really understand why, or what to do about it. I would also guess there was a little bit of a fear that if you became alarmed about them getting too close too young, you might have found a reason to ship Jessie off to me as a way to separate them for a while." 

"I might have done it, too." 

"You see? The only reason you've accepted it now is because it's so obvious that the commitment has gone way beyond what you could stop. And don't you give me that look. You know it's true." 

Race sighed. "I know. I told Benton something similar the other night." 

"I know it's hard to watch her grow up, but the time has come for this next step. And I don't know if he's used the words yet or not, but you know . . ." 

"I know. I know. But I'm not ready to hear them yet. Come on. Let's get back." 

* * * * * 

The day crawled by. Hadji stayed close to Jonny, but he had withdrawn again. Race and Estella hovered close to the viewing window most of the time, occasionally talking in low tones, while Benton paced the length of the corridor almost continuously. Hadji managed to coax Jonny out to get some lunch early in the afternoon, but upon their return, he just looked at his father and shook his head. They both went over and sat back down on "their" bench again. And still the day dragged on. 

Late that evening, just as Race was about to suggest that they start going back in shifts to get some rest, a stranger entered the waiting area. He was large, with a dark complexion and very bad skin. He moved lithely and silently as he crossed to Race Bannon. A spook, Estella thought with a shudder. She had always hated Race's job with the government and for Jessie's sake, she had been very thankful when he made the break with the agency and became a permanent member of Quest Enterprises. 

The man's voice was deep and low as he spoke, "Mr. Bannon?" 

Race moved to intercept him. "Here." 

"We believe we've spotted the target." 

"Where?" 

"A woman matching your description was seen entering the establishment of one Abdelal Hassan, an antiquities dealer with a shop in the main souk near the tanner's shop. He is reputed to deal in illegally obtained merchandise and to pay huge sums to the local police for protection. We have put the establishment under surveillance and have established an operating perimeter but have gone no further." 

"Have you notified the local authorities?" 

"No. We felt the risk of a leak was too great." 

Race nodded grimly. "Let's go. I don't want . . ." 

At that instant, the quiet was cut by a piercing whine and an alarm began to sound. Medical personnel appeared from nowhere, converging on the bed where Jessie lay. One by one all the monitors dropped off as doctors and nurses worked frantically. Everyone in the observation room surged toward the open doorway. One of them was murmuring a steady litany of "ohnoohnoohno". 

And then, at 9:27 p.m. on that dark Cairo night, Jessie Bannon died. 

* * * * * 

"NOOOOOO ! . . ." 

"This can't be happening!" 

"Mr. Bannon, I'm sorry . . . we did every thing we could . . ." 

"Please please pleasepleaseplease . . ." 

The sounds of crying, disbelief, and anger intermingled with that of closing doors and hospital noises. 

And suddenly through all the confusion came a calm, clear, even voice. 

"Jessie, you can not do this." 

Silence fell on the room as everyone looked in disbelief at Hadji Singh. He stood calmly by the still form lying in the bed. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted slightly back, hands held out in front of him palms up. "I know it is hard, but if you cross the river now, we will lose Jonny, too. You hold his spirit in your trust, and we cannot get it back. You cannot leave him in the same way his mother did, or he is lost. You must come back to us." 

A long moment passed. And suddenly one of the monitors beeped. Then another. And another. And suddenly all of them were back, weak, but there. Medical personnel rushed back to the bed, pushing Hadji aside. He turned and walked quietly back to the group standing in the doorway. The stranger was looking at the boy in astonishment. 

He looked at them all steadily, then shook his head. "She could not leave yet. It is not her time. She knew it . . . she just needed to be reminded of how much depended on her remaining." 

The doctor moved to join them and herded them back out into the corridor. "I do not know how this has happened. She was gone. I was sure nothing we could do would bring her back." 

"Nothing you could do would have made a difference. The only one who could make a difference was Jessie herself. She had to choose to stay." Hadji looked at Race. "You understand." Race nodded slowly. Suddenly, Hadji's expression changed to one of alarm. "Where is Jonny?" 

But Jonny Quest was gone. 

* * * * * 

He moved silently through the dark streets just as Race had taught him. Getting through the observation lines that Race's agency friends had set up would be difficult, but he knew he could do it. They had explored that souk from one end to the other, visiting all the shops and talking to as many vendors as they could. They had even been in Hassan's shop. He also knew that he wouldn't have much of a head start. When the initial shock of Jessie's death wore off they would notice he was gone and start looking for him. It wouldn't be hard to guess where he was heading . . . 

His mind was clear and sharp, and he was moving with purpose. Somewhere deep inside of him he knew that blackness still lurked, waiting to overwhelm him. What would happen when it finally closed in, he didn't know or care. All he knew was that right now he was having no trouble holding it at bay. He had a purpose and it would stay buried until he accomplished the task he had set for himself. 

He entered the perimeter of the souk cautiously and flitted from shadow to shadow like a wraith. He knew where he was headed. The antiquities shop was near the center of the market. He was certain that the men posted to watch the shop would be doing so from one of three places: across the main square in the dark alleyway that ran beside the tanner's shop; in the deeply recessed entry of the sweetmeat shop two doors up; or from the alleyway that ran behind the shop. He was fairly certain that in the time they had had to set this up they would not have risked tipping them off by sending someone inside, so they would assume that the front and back entrances were the only ways in or out. 

But Jonny knew differently. He had been in that shop and both he and Jessie had seen the carefully concealed trapdoor in the ceiling of the back room. They should never have been in that room, but the owner had been trying so hard to keep people out of there that it was more than either one of them could resist. They had slipped back there and had seen the trap door. Along with a large quantity of the questionable artifacts that his father had been sent there to study. They had left everything untouched and slipped back out into the main shop. They had tried to buy one of the mysterious pieces but Hassan wouldn't sell it to them, saying it was already spoken for. So they had wandered away and continued their window-shopping. But as they wandered they had tried to trace the likely access to that trapdoor. What they finally found was a drainpipe about six shops down and around a curve from the dealer. It was located at the back of a shop in a dead end alley filled with refuse. It was noticeable because it was the cleanest thing in the entire market. Jessie had said at the time that it was probably being used as a ladder to the roof. They had intended to tell his father about it when they got back to the hotel, but the excitement of the impending evening on the pyramid had driven it from their minds. After that evening, it didn't really seem to matter any more. 

As he thought of that day, a core of blackness rose up and tried to envelop him again. He leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes against the feeling of overwhelming grief that was so near the surface. No. He wouldn't let it take him. Not yet. He had one last thing to do. His eyes glittered as he leaned forward in the deep shadows and studied the center of the market square. Jessie was gone. At first he hadn't wanted to believe it . . . couldn't grasp it. But as the sounds of grief rose in that crowded doorway, his mental fog had disappeared and he saw with clarity what he had to do. Before the dawn arrived this would be over. And Francesca Hamilton would be dead. 

He thought that maybe he was going insane, but even that didn't matter. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing beyond Francesca's death . . . because nothing else was left. A part of his mind screamed at him, What about your father? And Hadji? And Race? But he didn't care any more. Francesca -- dead for what she had done -- that was all he wanted. And he wanted to do it with his own two hands. 

There they were! Exactly where he knew they would be. He could count four men. He would anticipate at least four more he couldn't see. But no one this far up the market square. He slipped quietly out of his hiding place and moved down two shops to the entrance to the dead end alleyway. Nothing stirred. The blackness in the alley was like ink. He knew he would have to make that climb blind and hope no one was posted on the roof. He reached out and tugged on the pipe. It was solidly anchored and it made no noise. He climbed quickly and stopped just below the rooftop. 

Just as he was about to reach out and pull himself up he heard a stealthy movement from above him. Then a low voice hissed in the darkness. "Hurry, you brother of a camel! If we are caught here we are sure to be dead." 

"We should have taken more. They are of good workmanship. They will bring a good price." 

"We will be lucky to get away with our lives and what we have! Do not linger. Quickly!" Suddenly, Jonny heard a soft exclamation and a heavy thud. A moment later two shapes sailed over his head and landed on the ground in the alley below. 

A new voice came out of the blackness above him. "No one steals from me and lives to benefit from it." And soft footsteps receded across the roof. But Jonny had ceased thinking about the men on the ground below. He knew that voice! Smiling grimly, he knew he had found what he was looking for. The man moving away from him on the roof was David Hamilton -- Francesca's father. 

* * * * * 

Benton Quest uttered an inarticulate sound and broke for the door. Estella swayed on her feet, her eyes wide and her face white. 

Race swore. Catching her arm, he eased his former wife onto the nearby bench, as he called, "Benton, wait!" He turned to the agency man still in their midst. "Can you reach your men at the observational perimeter?" He nodded. "Then call them! They aren't to move on the shop, but they're to watch for that boy. He's got to be stopped. He's going after Francesca, and he's going to be single-minded and dangerous. He's young, but he's good. And he has nothing to lose." 

Estella looked at him in fear. "Surely he won't do this. He'll know Jessie still needs him and he won't take any chances." 

Race shook his head. "I don't think he knows she's alive. I think when those monitors died, the rational part of Jonny went with them. Right now, all that's left is a burning desire for vengeance. Our attention was diverted, and he took his chance and ran with it. Literally." 

The stranger looked up from his cellular phone and shook his head. "No sign of him." 

"He's there . . . somewhere." He looked down at Estella. "You have to stay here. Hadji," a quick look at the young man, "I need you here as well. I would ask Benton to stay, too, but that would be pointless. He wouldn't do it. We'll bring him back . . . I promise." Then he turned and left at a run with Benton Quest and the stranger on his heels. Estella and Hadji looked at each other for a long moment. And then they set themselves to wait. 

* * * * * 

Jonny crouched in the shadows on the roof of the antiquities shop. The trap door was open and from below the low murmur of voices could be heard. He eased closer and finally began to make out the words. 

A familiar voice said, "The area is getting too hot. We've got to relocate. The men are packing up the merchandise right now. We should have no trouble being out by dawn." 

An unfamiliar voice answered him. "This never should have happened. The set up was perfect and so was the merchandise. All we needed to do was to get that new molecular spectrographic analyzer that Quest had developed. With that out of the way, the authorities could have investigated all they wanted and no one could have proved our merchandise was fake. But, no, you had to blow the assignment. Then, not only did we have the equipment problem, but we had the Quests breathing down our necks." 

"I tell you, the Quests did not end up here because they knew what was going on! It had to have been coincidence that the Egyptian government called them in." 

"Yeah. Right," the stranger said. "Just like it was coincidence that they turned up in London at the same time we were there to restock the manufacturing supplies! And that little brat of yours just had to start a harassment campaign against the Bannon girl, didn't she?" 

"Listen, Keller, you leave Francesca out of this. If it hadn't been for her we never would have gotten close enough to the Quests to slow them down as much as we have. And her harassment campaign kept them off our backs in London, didn't it? So I don't want to hear it." 

Keller jeered, "Yeah, but what's she gonna do now? I thought she was a pro. At least that's what you assured Baxter when he hired you. But now she's gone all gaga over the Quest kid and she's as unreliable as they come." 

"I've heard enough of th . . ." A muffled noise from below caused them to stop. Jonny craned forward trying to see in through the trap door. He spotted two Arabs dressed in native garb struggling to shift what appeared to be a large packing crate over to the door that led to the back alley. 

"Don't drop it, you fool. The stuff in that crate is worth a lot of money. Listen, Hamilton, I still say we'd be better off stashing the stuff here and coming back for it after things cool off. Those crates are too big to be inconspicuous. Someone's going to notice." 

"And if things don't cool off? What then? If you think Baxter is unhappy now, just imagine what he'll be like if we lose the merchandise to a raid. I'm getting rumbles that Bannon is pulling in outside help to find out who did damage to his little girl. That's a wild card we can't control." He uttered an ugly laugh. "And what do you suppose he will do to you when he finds out you're the one who systematically beat his daughter into a bloody pulp? No, the smart thing to do is get out now; before they descend on us. And as far as being inconspicuous is concerned, that's what we pay all that money to the local authorities for. It's their job to be sure no one asks too many questions or gives the wrong answers." 

"Daddy . . ." The soft, velvety voice that floated up from below turned Jonny cold. "Daddy, I think there's someone out there . . ." 

He could see her now as she moved farther into the room. She was dressed all in black and her hair was pulled back and anchored with a clasp at the nape of her neck. Everyone in the room below moved quickly through the doorway toward the front of the shop. Jonny scrambled quickly through the trap door and dropped softly to the floor. He was in! He'd get them all but he couldn't take then on all at once. This was going to be a war of attrition and he had to eliminate them one at a time. He smiled grimly. At least now he knew who his targets were! 

* * * * * 

The souk was silent and deserted. Nothing moved. Race and Benton crouched in the shadows watching the door of the antiquities shop. Carefully hidden men were placed at strategic points around the shop and in the alley. The strike team leader assured Race when he arrived that nothing had gotten in or out of the shop since before nightfall. The two men exchanged a grim look. The boy was here . . . they both knew it. And they also knew what it was like trying to stop him when his mind was set on something. 

As Race prepared to give the signal to begin moving toward the shop a sudden movement in one window froze everyone. It had been subtle . . . just the twitch of a curtain. But it was enough. Someone was in that shop keeping watch on the souk. Cold fingers ran up Race's spine. Instinct told him something was about to break. He signaled everyone to hold. For ten long minutes, the strike team held its position. 

Then, a wild cry came from inside the shop and a body suddenly crashed through a boarded up window to lay unmoving in the dirt. More cries followed and three Egyptian natives erupted from the front door and ran screaming through the empty night. 

Race surged to his feet. "Heaven help us, he got in! Come on!" But suddenly the night was cut by new sounds that echoed through the empty air. Gunfire . . . and the sound of a woman screaming. Race Bannon and Benton Quest were halfway across the market toward that fateful shop before anyone else could move. 

* * * * * 

The first one had been easy. It was one of the men who had been moving the crate. A quick blow with a handy piece of pottery had put him out of commission. But an idea had come to him suddenly on how to even the odds a bit. Only a single overhead light and two dimly flickering oil lamps lit the room. Jonny dragged the native man to one corner quickly and propped him up by hanging him by his clothes from a convenient hook. So far, so good. Also good . . . he was in native dress. The long, flowing, dirty white robe would give the right effect. Now, where was it? He and Jessie had seen it when they snooped in here the first time. Ah, ha. One old Egyptian burial mask, hopefully a fake. He placed the burial mask over the unconscious man's face and anchored one arm up against a shelf with his sleeve. Finally he took one of the oil lamps and set it on the shelf by the man's hand. Climbing up on the crate quickly he unscrewed the dim overhead bulb and the room became a flickering netherworld of shadows. The light from the oil lamps moved eerily across the suspended form and for one brief instant he thought he could see the long dead pharaoh looking at him through the mask. A shudder passed through him quickly. Now, if only the stories of the superstitious nature of the locals were true. 

He moved silently toward the curtained doorway to the front of the shop. No light showed from the room but someone had pulled back the curtain across the front door and the silhouettes of seven people could be seen as darker black shapes in the darkness. Four wore native dress, visible by shape in the darkness. Well, if this works it should take care of half of them, he thought. His hands fumbled for a weapon of some kind and closed on a long piece of wood, rounded and smooth. He moved until he was slightly behind and to the left of the one closest to the boarded up window. With lightening quickness he struck the man across the back. The man screamed in pain and fear. The force of the blow flung him against the flimsy boards and he crashed through and into the dirty street, where he lay unmoving. 

Jonny was moving before the sound of the man's screams had died away, slipping in among the masses of merchandise that cluttered the shop. Curses filled the room and the three remaining Egyptians turned and fled toward the back room. They flung the curtain aside and were greeted by the sight of an ancient pharaoh, risen from his tomb, to wreak vengeance on the living. Shrieking, the three men flung themselves in the opposite direction and out the front of the shop. In the ensuing chaos two of the dark figures were flung to the floor. One of them, Jonny was sure, was Francesca. He moved again and slid back into the back room and behind the packing crate. As he reached his hiding place, the two men erupted into the room. 

Keller, in the lead, stopped by the man hanging from the hook and began to swear. "Someone is in this store! Find him! Where is the cursed light?" 

Brighter illumination suddenly shown as Francesca entered with a gas lantern turned up full. Now Jonny had a choice. He would have to try for one of them and hope Francesca was not quick enough to stop his move for the door. He tagged Keller as the more deadly of the two and chose to try for him first. The choice almost cost him. He was fast and far enough away that he saw Jonny coming. Before Jonny could reach him he pulled out a gun and took aim. Jonny jackknifed to one side, landing on his hands and one foot. At the same time, he swung his free leg and cut Keller's feet out from under him. The gun went off with an explosive sound and went flying from his hand as he hit the floor. Jonny rolled and dived for the gun. But Hamilton also had a gun and Jonny felt the passage of the air by his face as the first shot barely missed him. He gave up on the gun and was moving again as the second shot was fired. But this time David Hamilton miscalculated. Jonny's quick move had taken him behind Keller. The next shot fired caught Keller in the chest as he sat up. He fell back to the floor and lay unmoving. 

In some distant recess of his mind, Jonny could hear Francesca screaming, but time seemed to have slowed to a stop. He rolled again and his hand came in contact with the long piece of wood he had used earlier. He shot to his feet in a crouch and swung twice with the staff. The first blow caught Hamilton across the upper arm and the gun went sailing toward Jonny. The second blow caught him across the temple and he fell unconscious at his daughter's feet. She bent for a fraction of a second and then rose in fury ready to fling herself on their attacker, but she stopped abruptly when she saw who it was. 

Jonny Quest stood straight with his feet planted slightly apart. He was breathing hard and there was a wild light in his eyes. His right hand grasped David Hamilton's gun, which he pointed straight at Francesca's head. 

She swallowed convulsively and held up one hand as if in defense. Her soft voice held real fear. "Please, Jonny. Please don't hurt me. I never meant any harm. I was only doing what my father told me to do." Her voice turned sweet and cloying and she moved one step closer to him. "Jonny, I really care for you . . . would do anything you asked of me. It was my father. I had to do what he told me. Surely you see that." 

The gun never wavered, but when he spoke his voice was ragged, "You took the best thing in my life away from me. Maneuvered me into treating her like . . ." He stopped, breathing heavily. 

And suddenly Francesca shrieked at him. "This is about her?!! That loud-mouthed, interfering little tramp?!? You were mine! She had no right to be anywhere near you. Everything was fine until she came along with her constant whining and complaining. All you ever talked about was Jessie this . . . and Jessie that . . . and Jessie and I like to do this . . . and . . .and . . . if she's dead, I'm glad!" 

"Shut up. SHUT UP!" His face was white and pinched and his eyes black as night in the strange light. His grip on the gun tightened. She backed away from him, beginning to shake. His voice was deadly and cold. "You're going to pay for what you did to her. Right here. Right now." 

"Jonny, don't do this. Please, don't do this." The voice was quiet and steady. "This is wrong." 

Race Bannon stood like a statue in the doorway with Benton Quest beside him. A wave of a hand froze the rest of the strike team. Race knew the boy was on the edge. One wrong move would send him over. If that happened, at least one more person would be dead and Jonny's life would be shattered forever. For all of his desire to make someone pay for what had happened to his daughter, Race Bannon did not want this. 

"This is murder, Jonny." 

Jonny's voice was harsh. "Murder?" he spat. "This isn't murder . . . it's justice . . . a life for a life. She caused Jessie's life to be taken away and now I'm going to take hers." 

Race could see his finger tighten on the trigger. Desperately, he said, "Jonny, she's not dead. Do you understand me? SHE'S . . . NOT . . . DEAD!" Jonny's eyes flicked to Race's and Race could see the boy's resolve waver. He stepped forward carefully and placed his hand on the barrel of the gun. Looking Jonny straight in the face he said, "I swear to you, she's still alive." 

Confusion showed on Jonny's face. "But I saw her die. I heard the doctor . . ." 

"You left too soon. She rallied . . . came back. Hadji called to her just like he did to me. Told her that she held your life in her hands and that if she left us we would lose you as well. She came back for you, Jonny. Don't throw that away on vengeance. This isn't what she would want. Please, son, let me have the gun." 

Jonny looked to his father blindly. Benton stepped up and laid a hand on his arm. "It's true, son. We wouldn't lie to you. Please. Let Race have the gun." Benton could feel Jonny's body beginning to shake as his death grip on the weapon loosened. 

Race slid it from his grasp and handed it back to one of the agency men. Then he looked at Francesca. His face was cold and shuttered. She shrank away from him and opened her mouth as if to speak. Race waved to one his men. "Get her out of my sight." Benton gathered his son into his arms and held him tightly. Race saw they were both shaking. "And see if you can round me up some transportation. We're going back to the hospital. You can deal with this." 

* * * * * 

Estella and Hadji looked up as Race walked in the door of the ICU ward. Both rose to their feet and looked for their missing members. Race appeared to be alone. He looked utterly exhausted. Estella went white and her knees started to buckle. They didn't reach him in time! she thought. Oh, Jessie . . . 

Race leaped forward and caught her as she sagged. "No, Estella. It's okay. They're coming. They just needed a little time. They'll be here in a minute." She leaned against him, light-headed and slightly sick. He stroked her hair gently. "How is she?" 

Estella tried to stand upright and found that her legs still wouldn't hold her without support. Race eased her to the bench. She looked up at him with a wan smile. "Better. She's grabbed on to life like it's a rope and she climbing it as fast as she can." 

He chuckled weakly. "You've been spending too much time with Hadji." 

Hadji asked quietly, "Is Jonny really all right, Race? We have been very concerned." 

Race rubbed his eyes. "What's 'all right', Hadji? He's alive, which is a miracle in itself. He didn't kill anyone apparently, which is even more of a miracle. But he was ready to. Only the knowledge that Jessie was still alive stopped him. If she had actually been dead, I don't think we could have prevented it. Estella, this entire situation scares me. Jonny has always been a good kid. Intense, in love with life, curious, strongly loyal . . . but he's never been obsessive or morbid before. I don't know what's happened here. And I don't know that he'll ever be the same again." 

It was Hadji who responded. "But, Race, the very traits you said you knew were what drove him to this. Jonny has never done anything in small measures. You know that. When he realized he really cared for Jessie, it was not an idle attachment. He cares for all of us, but not the way he cares for his father. What he found was that he cares for Jessie with the same intensity that he cares for Dr. Quest. I do not believe you would have seen behavior any different if it had been Dr. Quest targeted rather than Jessie. And I do believe that given time, he will come to be the `Jonny Quest' you knew before . . . perhaps, just a little older and a little wiser." 

They all turned as they heard the door to the ICU ward open. The two Quests entered together. Benton didn't hesitate. He turned Jonny toward the open door to Jessie's room and led him to the bed. 

As the hospital staff moved to stop them, Race, Estella and Hadji blocked them. "Give them a minute," Race instructed firmly. As the nurses hovered with indecision, Benton Quest stood next to the bed with his son. Jonny stared blindly at the monitors. All recorded strong signs. He shook his head and looked at her. Her breathing was easier and there was color beginning to show in her cheeks. Jonny was silent, staring at her. 

Finally, he asked his father, "How did you survive when Mom died?" 

His father was quiet for a long time. "I had you." Both of them stood there for a little while longer and then Benton led his son back into the corridor. 

As they joined the others, Jonny swayed on his feet. All of them reached out to steady him. He looked from one to the other, and finally said, "I'm so tired . . ." and then he collapsed. 

* * * * * 

Jessie woke for the first time about noon the next day. Her mother was standing by the bed and smiled at her when she saw awareness in her eyes. 

"Hi." 

" `Lo, Mom." Her voice was rusty and low. 

"How do you feel?" 

Jessie considered it for a minute. "Lousy." 

"Well, it's to be expected. But you're alive and that's all that matters." 

"Where's Jonny?" 

Her mother smiled and shook her head. "Your father would call both of you obsessive." 

"Where's Jonny?" 

"Jessie, it's all right . . ." 

"Mom, where's Jonny?!" 

Estella shook her head. "Asleep in a room down the hall." 

". . .'kay." And she was asleep again. 

* * * * * 

"She woke up briefly." 

"How was she?" 

"She wanted Jonny." 

Race Bannon sighed. 

* * * * * 

Jonny woke for the first time about six o'clock that night. 

His father sat by his bed. "How do you feel?" 

He considered it for a minute. "Lousy." 

"Go back to sleep." 

"How's Jessie?" 

"You don't need to worry about it. Go back to sleep." 

"How's Jessie?" 

"Jonny . . ." 

"Dad, how's Jessie!?" 

"She's asleep up the hall. Now you do the same." 

" . . . `kay." And he was out again. 

* * * * * 

"Jonny woke up this afternoon." 

"So did Jessie." 

"All he wanted to know was how she was." 

"All she wanted to know was how he was." 

Race and Benton both sighed. Estella laughed. 

* * * * * 

When Jessie woke again, the first thing she saw was Bugs Bunny. He hovered at the end of her bed, chewing on a carrot. She stared at the rabbit, perplexed. "Eeee, what's up, Doc?" 

Without thinking she responded, "Not much. What's up with you?" 

"Jess?!" Bugs suddenly resolved into a cartoon character on a television set. Jessie rolled her head in the direction of the voice and focused on the form at the side of her bed. As she looked up, the figure turned into Jonny. 

She smiled. "Hi." She looked at him critically. "You look worse than I feel." 

"It's been a rotten week." 

"How long have I been out?" 

He shrugged, "Don't know. I've kinda lost track of time. Our parents would know . . . or Hadji." 

Jessie frowned. "I remember Hadji talking to me . . . I think. He was saying something about you." Alarm flared in her eyes. "Something about you being in trouble." 

He grinned at her with a ghost of his old smile. "Oh, you know me . . . I'm always in trouble." He touched her hair softly. "But it's over now. We're goin' home soon. Dad's getting the final customs clearances and Race has borrowed an air ambulance. We'll leave as soon as you can travel." He looked up at the room they were in. It was a basic hospital room, but not the ICU ward any longer. "I hate this place." 

"But what about the antiquities?" 

"They were fake. Dad's proved it, the bad guys are in jail, and the government is happy, so we can go home." 

"What about Francesca and her father?" 

Jonny's face turned hard. "They're out of circulation." 

"Jonny . . ." 

He shook his head. "Just leave it at that for now, okay? I don't really want to talk about it." 

She sighed. "You really did get in trouble, didn't you? That's what happens when I'm out of commission and Hadji's gone. No one to ride herd on you." 

He reached down and caught her hand, taking it carefully in both of his. His voice was unsteady as he replied, "Just don't get that way again, okay? I found out I'm not real good in situations like this, and I don't want to have to cope with it again." 

"Okay, how about this? You try and stay out of trouble and I'll try to stay in one piece. Deal?" 

"Deal. There's just one more thing . . ." Releasing her hand, he brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face. 

"What?" 

"Oh, just a little unfinished business . . ." and he leaned over and kissed her. 

Unnoticed by either of them, the rest of the Quest clan drew back and closed the door. They had earned some time alone . . . 

* * * * * 

Benton Quest sat in his favorite chair with a book propped in his lap. Clear June sunshine came through the big picture windows that overlooked the side yard of the Quest Compound. In the distance, the sea shimmered. He could smell the scent of the flowers planted just outside and birds sang sweetly in the tree out in the courtyard. From a distance he could hear the sound of laughter. The kids were somewhere outside playing one of their specialized games. What was it Jonny had called it? Motorized Renegade Ninja Croquet? He didn't think he even wanted to know what that was. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash by the window and looked up. Whatever it was included the sound of Jessie's laughter. 

"Hey, come back here!" Jonny dashed by the window, followed closely by Hadji. Jessie reappeared balancing gracefully on his son's hoverboard about five feet off the ground. Benton's heart contracted sharply. 

"That's not fair!" 

"It is not in the rules, Jessie." 

"Sure it is. Rule number 157 . . . controlling player establishes ground rules at change of possession. New ground rule is you have to catch me and then the ball goes in play. But maybe the hoverboard isn't fair . . ." She sailed to the ground and jumped off, snatching it up and setting off at a run with both boys chasing her. 

She still limped slightly, Benton noticed. But after almost six months of therapy it was only noticeable when she tried to run. And Jonny had said something about all of them going climbing with the local outing club this weekend. It had been hard, not being over-protective of her when they got home. She had been coddled and pampered and sheltered by all of them until she finally lost her temper and told them to bug off. She would do this herself. 

And do it she had. For a while it had been bad and there had been more doctors than he cared to think about. They had all known she was tough, but their respect rose to new heights as she struggled to come back from her injuries. She had told him once that the day would come when no one would ever know she had been hurt. He hadn't believed it then. He did now. 

Like an explosion, the three of them erupted into the house. Jonny reached out and grabbed her from behind, swinging her around as he pulled her against him. "Gotcha'!" 

She tossed her head back onto his shoulder and laughed breathlessly. "Okay, okay, you win. Oh, hi, Dr. Quest. We didn't disturb you, did we?" 

"Hi, Dad!" Benton smiled at all of them, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude rising up inside of him. Hadji had been right all along. Jessie was too strong to be beaten and his son was back to normal. 

"No, Jessie, you didn't disturb me. It's fine." Jonny set her back on her feet and slid his arm around her waist, hugging her against him unashamedly. She looked up and smiled radiantly. 

"Everything is just fine." 

THE END 

The Jealousy Series continues in the story Summer Camp 

© 1997 Debbie Kluge 

DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 1997 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor. 


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